


Valentine /gfd/

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Gentle femdom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Title: Valentine /gfd/ Part 1Author: anonymousDate Published: Wednesday 13th of May 2015 09:34:48 PM CDTDate Scraped (from pastebin): Thursday 1st of October 2020 02:34:00 AM CDTNumber of Visits: 10719Expiration: NeverURL: https://pastebin.com/tW34EBHL (404)
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 3
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Routine Physical

**Author's Note:**

> I'm reposting some of the Gentle Femdom / Role Reversal writings that were circulated in the /gfd/ /rr/ threads on 4chan that are now otherwise gone forever because of Pastebin's TOS.

As an average, upstanding citizen of New Meridian, it's your right to have seem sort of health care. That said, your insurance is absolutely awful and so your selection of clinics is very slim and generally unappealing. You suppose you need to afford to eat before anything else. From the looks of it, your choices are a Dentist who does non-teeth work on the side, a physician whose motto is "All your limbs intact or (half) your money back!" and...a totally new clinic with no current or prior patients and no information other than an address. It's also the cheapest of the three. Against your better judgement, you decide to go with the devil you don't know and go to the third option. At least you don't get a vibe that whoever's running this clinic won't mistake a handheld drill for a tongue depressor.

As you follow the directions you printed out, you realize just how out of the way this place is. You've taken some turns down alleys you didn't think existed and maneuvered in between half a dozen buildings you didn't think had room for a human being to fit through. However, you do eventually find the place. It's a small, but stable, somewhat new-looking little shack, no larger than a one-person apartment. Above the door is a somewhat dim neon sign (still being the brightest thing in the back alley it's situated in, as there are no windows anywhere on the building) which reads "Valentine Medical Examinations and Experimentations". Certainly not the catchiest name you've ever read. Or the most encouraging, for that matter. "Experimentations"? You suppose that if you're the only patient, they won't be able to see you as expendable, and so you use what little confidence that flimsy justification gives you and walk up to the door. There's a sign hung on the door which says TO SCHEDULE AN APPOINTMENT, KNOCK ONCE. TO DROP OFF A DELIVERY, KNOCK TWICE. You try to block out the thought of the sort of deliveries a place like this gets and knock on the door one time. After waiting a solid twenty seconds or so, you go to knock a second time, hoping that whoever's inside doesn't mistake it for some sort of delayed delivery, but before your hand manages to make contact with the door, you hear a handful of quick clicks, clacks, and clunks before the door swings open suddenly. You pull your hand back to your sides in an attempt to look like you knew what you were doing.

You didn't know who, or what, you were expecting was going to answer the door, but it certainly wasn't this. Standing in front of you, back-lit by surprisingly bright fluorescent lighting from within the small building, was a tall, buxom woman, her muted-blue hair tied back and underneath an almost stereotypical little nurse's hat. She was wearing a face mask over her nose and mouth, as well as some sort of patch over her left eye (these two tidbits were giving you mixed signals about the safety of the establishment, but at least there were some good signals, you think). Her only uncovered facial feature, her right eye, wasn't looking at you, but at a clipboard she held in her hand. It seemed relatively cold (unlike her skin, which looked somewhat pale, but not devoid of color), but not detached. In fact, she seemed to have a great interest in what she was reading. After a few seconds of silence, in which you realize that her pupil, situated in a small sea of blood red, is in the shape of a medical cross, the eye gazes back at you, and you hear the woman speak.

"Ah, here is my first patient. I almost thought nobody would bother volunteering." Her tone almost sounded like she was talking to herself, especially considering that she next says, "Alright, boy, come on in, I don't have all day to dilly-dally. I'm expecting a package." You quickly and nervously oblige, almost afraid of what this woman would do if you didn't follow her directions. She has an aura of authority about her, one that you can't quite explain, and you aren't quite sure if you find comforting or distressing. It may be because she stands what feels like 5 or 6 inches taller than you, and you have never had a girl tower over you like that before. Even the tallest girls you've met were only around 5'8", just barely above you. The woman who answered the door moves out of the way, revealing that the entire building is one room filled with medical supplies. You suppose she didn't think she needed a waiting room. She motions towards a padded examination table, one you generally always see in a doctor's office. Almost relieved by the normality of it, you quickly remove your shoes at the door and climb up, sitting on the cushion patiently, your socks barely grazing the tiles on the floor as you allow them to swing lightly back and forth, waiting for the woman to bring her attention back to you.

In the better light the inside of the clinic, you manage to get a better look at the woman other than her face as she files away some papers, gets some of her supplies in order, and other such small chores in preparation. She may be tall, but she's certainly able to fill out her surprisingly short-skirted garment. Her long legs begin at slim calves and blossom into full thighs as they go up, stopping at the edge of the skirt, which is somehow consistently able to conceal her butt, but from the strain of the fabric and width of her hips you can tell it's just as shapely as the legs that carry it. Her waist tapirs in sharply from her hips, but still manages to have enough substance to it to not look sickly or unnatural. The main attraction, however, lies further above. During the few times she turns around your way while shuffling about, you get glimpses at her absolutely massive chest. Her breasts swing, sway, and jiggle more than any pair you had ever seen while still remaining within the tight confines of her clothing. She must have some sort of built-in support to keep anything from spilling out, you think to yourself, as they seem to be positively bursting out from their containment with every movement, and yet manage to refrain from letting even the slightest hint of her unmentionables slip. You would be impressed with the set up if you weren't so impressed with the rack itself.

She turns around, seemingly complete with her tasks, and looks at you. Instinctively, you tighten up your face just in case your mouth was open in awe at her body. However, you can't seem to take your eyes entirely off of her breasts. Every time you move your gaze up to the woman's face, your eyes instinctively dart back down. Eventually, the woman gently takes your chin in one hand and tilts it up to meet her own gaze, "My face is up here, you realize," she says in a monotone, "or do I have to prescribe you some contact lenses?" You wonder whether or not she's joking, given her serious disposition, but rather than get caught up in that thought you decide to immediately apologize as she removes her hand from your face. Your face red with embarrassment, you look off to the side and ask when the doctor will be able to see you, hoping that you can put this incident behind you and get on with it.

A light, low chuckle hums from behind her mask before being quickly stifled, "Actually, I AM the doctor. Didn't you read the sign? I'm Miss Valentine, medical professional among other things. I wear this nurse's outfit mainly because I need the freedom of movement for my full-time position." Full-time position? Your brain racks itself wondering what kind of woman runs a medical facility in her spare time.You quickly dispel your immediate thoughts of the doctor as a stripper, even though you do note that if she wanted to, she'd do a damn good job. She's even got a good name for it, you brain smugly adds. Alas, despite the way she dresses, this Valentine seems to have too much self-respect to bare herself to the world like that. That could be the reason her clinic is so hidden away, you ponder.

"Now, don't try and think too hard about it. I'm your doctor now, first and foremost, and I'm the one who should be worrying about the facts. For instance, I can tell there's something else puzzling you..." she reaches to her bosom with both hands, heaving them upward with her forearms in a sort of makeshift cradle, "36E, all natural. I'm very proud of them. But, this isn't about me. This is your physical, so we may as well get started."

The bulk of the physical proceeds as normally as possible, much to your surprise. She checks your ears, your eyes, your reflexes, the works, all without saying anything more than what was needed for the examination to move along. The only two things out of the ordinary are the two massive 36E tits continuously pressed up against your shoulders, your back, your leg, and even your chest while she was checking on your tonsils. Their softness was almost as overwhelming as their malleability, squishing against you without the slightest twinge of discomfort from the mysterious buxom physician. If the sight of her body hadn't noticeably aroused you, its touch certainly did. By crossing your legs and turning away from her as nonchalantly as possible, you attempt to hide your erection from Valentine as effectively as possible whilst remaining aloof.

Alas, your charade was all in vain, as after the routine exam finishes and its results are recorded on her clipboard, Valentine looks at you with what you interpret as a bemused expression and says, "Well, that should be about it. Your body's in perfect working order, some things more so than others," she looks down at the tent pitched in your pants, "although I do think you're better off with a quick preventative shot before I send you on your way."

A shot? That's all? You sigh, relieved that some of the more dangerous, sharp medical equipment hung on the walls of the clinic won't be used on you (at least not today). Despite being generally timid, you've never been one to shy away from a needle. Valentine, rather than turn around and reaching for a cabinet, as you'd expect her to, reaches her free, non-clipboard hand with a learned, routine motion into her vast cleavage. She rummages around for a moment, causing several jiggly tremors in the vicinity, but eventually pulls out a small case of syringes. In the time it takes for your brain to process the logistics of such a case being stashed away in such a manner you hardly notice that the needle has already pierced the skin on your arm and the medicine already injected. Valentine disposes of the syringe and places the case in a drawer on a desk.

"There you are, then. I figured you'd probably be a little squeamish, so I decided to distract with something I knew you'd rather be fixated on." Great, you didn't even get to show off the one cool brave thing about you. 

"Now, let me see what kind of band-aid's I've got. Hmm...well, I guess it's something." Valentine turns around holding a box of pink band-aids with small heart decals. She takes one out and applies it to the spot where the needle penetrated, "Sorry, but it's all I've got. I'm sure the hearts will help the healing process." She traces a heart with her finger around the bandage while letting out an amused "Hmph". You force a weak laugh out, trying to distract her from the fact that you're blushing so hard. She's treating you like a kid, you tell yourself. Granted, Valentine is much, much more attractive than your old pediatrician, so at least this is an upgrade. In an attempt to sound more adult, you ask Valentine what the shot was filled with.

"Oh, it's a new concoction of mine, actually. I've been studying some aspects of male anatomy and psychology recently, and discovered something of a widespread chronic condition that nobody has been really treating effectively. Until now, at least, I hope. Now, I'm going to need you to come back in one month for a follow-up dosage. Is the 13th good for you, perhaps around 5:45?" You nod. "Good, I'll pencil you in."

Valentine ushers you out the door somewhat urgently, although without any break in her demeanor. You recall she said she was waiting for a package, so you oblige by getting your things together as quickly as possible. You gesture a quick goodbye to Valentine, who nods in acknowledgement, despite already having turned her attention back to her clipboard. As you open the door to leave, you hear her verbalize, "See you next month," you exit the door-way and attempt to slowly close the door, so as not to disturb her, when you overhear, "...cutie." It was soft, almost under her breath, but your heard it right before you closed the door with a thud.

Your entire commute home is confused by the utterance. Valentine may be less than conservative about her body, and she seemed relatively affable, but she didn't seem like the flirtatious type. On top of that, why you? If she wanted to, you were certain she could get any man in the world, with a body and brain like hers. This being the case, you just can't understand how an awkward new acquaintance such as yourself could be considered "cute". It must've been in a sort of joking way, you convince yourself. She thinks I'm cute in a sense that I just keep embarrassing myself in front of pretty girls, you rationalize, since this certainly wasn't the first time you've done so. You suppose that it doesn't matter if your doctor cracks a joke at your expense, so long as they do their job. It's just that it had to be what must've been the sexiest woman you had ever seen. Like, unimaginably attractive, and yet entirely real. You saw her, felt her in a sense. As you go to sleep this night, after having relieved yourself of the arousal Valentine had given you, you think about how long a month really is.

For the next few weeks, your thoughts are filled with Valentine. You can't be bothered to look at porn when masturbating when you have her memory, and you've been masturbating more often recently. Sometimes you're even going second and third rounds consecutively, all while thinking of Valentine's perfect body. What was the word she used back then? "Fixated," right. You really were fixated on her. It took all the willpower you had not to physically cross out the days on your calendar leading up to your first scheduled check-up with Valentine. This time, you think to yourself on multiple occasions, I'll take the shot without being distracted. Easier said than done, adds your subconscious, remembering how utterly enchanted you were by Valentine's breasts.

\---------

And so, the 13th of the month rolled around. You put on your nicest casual clothes and set out for Valentine Medical Examinations and Experimentation. You double-check the time on your watch as you knock just once. 5:45 sharp, and as if she had been as acutely aware of the appointment as you, Valentine opened the door, once again with clipboard in hand. You know you can't help yourself from staring, but you try your hardest to stare into her eye rather than her cleavage. Valentine's visible eye looks down at you with the same professional, academic glaze as a month ago, but somewhat closer, and still with some amount of warmth, "There you are, right on time. Very punctual, I like that. Follow me." Valentine turns an about-face and walks into the clinic, motioning once again to the examination table with her free hand. 

As you enter the building, your eyes never leave your physician's frame, feeling almost magnetized. You can't tell if it's a new thing or something you just didn't notice last week, but her step seems to have a little more sway in her hips. Either way, you're getting to appreciate the business down below her rack, and business seems to be booming. Her hips extend just wider than her shoulders, enough to be visibly apparent, and the exaggerated (but otherwise subtle; you'd need to be paying very close attention to notice) movement shows off some jiggle of it's own. It's not the wild, caged beast sort of jiggle her breasts have, but you feel as though that's not really necessary. Wanting to be ready before she turns around, you hurry to the examination table once more, again removing your shoes and sitting with your legs dangling over the edge. Your big toes very lightly rest against the floor tiles.

"Ready for your shot?" Valentine asks whilst turning to you with a similar syringe to last time, you realizing that she thinks you can't take the needle. You reply that you are, and that she doesn't need to distract you this time. You pull your sleeve up to your shoulder, revealing that the pink bandage from last time is still there, much to the surprise of Valentine, and in a sense your own as well. In a way, you had forgotten you even had it on and never bothered to take it off. Blushing slightly, you peel the bandage off to allow the needle to be placed in the same spot. 

"Aww, that's really sweet of you, keeping that on. Alright then, get ready for this, it's gonna sting a little." Valentine takes the needle to your shoulder, injecting the medicine once again into your bloodstream. Without distraction, it does, in fact, sting. It stings like a motherfucker, actually. Ouch, you hear yourself mutter under your breath, as you try to hold back anything more, including the light watering of your eyes. You suppose that it has been years since you last had to get shots.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but it is necessary. I'd give this to you in supplements, but I'm not that far along in my development, and honestly it seems to be more potent in the bloodstream anyway," you'd never heard a vaccination described as 'potent' before, "Now, let me get another one of those band-aids for you. Same as before, sadly. That package I was waiting for wasn't full of masculine bandages, you know." Valentine stretches the fresh bandage over the injection point, leaning in to make sure it was stuck correctly. Once again you feel the sensation of her bountiful bosom rubbing against your shoulder. Your erection doesn't feel it's away around the situation this time and is set to full attention at once. You had hoped this wouldn't happen, especially since you had masturbated three times a little while before leaving just to make sure you wouldn't get a boner in front of Valentine again.

Suddenly, however, a new sensation rocks your body. Valentine leans in a bit further and kisses your arm right on the bandage. You can feel that her mask is still on, but you can also feel her lips, soft and warm, behind it. Your already-hard erection becomes rock hard, straining your nicest pair of underpants. If she were to touch it directly, there'd be no stopping it. You feel totally at Valentine's whim, and all she's done is tease you in such minor ways. You beg and pray to whatever force may be listening that she doesn't make note of your hard-on once more. It falls on deaf ears.

"Oh my. That's certainly a consistent phenomenon," Valentine says, pointing in the general direction of your junk, somehow still managing to keep her professional tone, "I take it you REALLY like coming to see the doctor, don't you?" Sheepishly, you cross your legs and avert your gaze to the side of the room, nodding so as to acknowledge the question, but she continues on regardless of your response, "I'm very flattered, honestly, but more than anything, I'm intrigued. I AM a woman of science, you know, and I've never had much chance to study the male-specific anatomy. Considering your anatomy seems very ready and willing, I'd like to propose a little...case study." In a sudden, swift motion, Valentine takes your chin in her hand like she did before, and once again forcefully focuses your attention on her face.

"You think I'm attractive, don't you?" Very much so, you answer automatically. "Have you masturbated while thinking of me? Has my body been on your mind when you've ejaculated any time in the past month?" ...Yes, a few times, you manage to say. "I can tell it's been more than a few times, but still, it's good to know. Now, considering just how rabid I know boys like you can get around women like me, I do appreciate your tact and restraint, and as such I'm going to ask you to exercise some of that restraint for me in the name of science. I'll certainly pay you for your service, of course." You agree immediately and gratefully, almost more excited about helping out this woman you barely know than the prospect of having additional income.

"Wonderful. Now, you won't need to disrupt your daily routine or sit in some big machine or anything like that. This study is going to be very simple. All I need you to do," Valentine points a finger directly at the tip of your dick, hovering mere inches away from it, "is not ejaculate for a week."

The smile that had been slowly growing on your face at this turn of events dissipates, and your expression turns into one that you can only assume is of abject horror. In shock, you attempt to protest, rationalize, and plead all at once, almost babbling until Valentine's gloved pointer finger (the same that had just been pointed towards your nether regions) was presses to your lips as the doctor shushes you like a teacher would a student.

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic. I've been wondering about the effects of short-term orgasm deprival on men, both physically and mentally. Note that I say short-term. A week is hardly any time at all, and given how you've neglected to even once grope or prod me in your two visits, I can tell you've got the willpower to make it. Trust me, I may be trying to learn more about male anatomy, but I know enough to assure you that a week without won't make you explode." You feel like it might. If she had asked you to do this before, you might have been confident in your ability, since you only masturbated on average one or two times a day mostly out of boredom, but now, after the month you've had, masturbating essentially every time Valentine's image flashes through your mind. Dozens upon dozens upon dozens of times, probably around 80 times in the last 30 days, you have cum to the thought of her body just from memory. Even shortening that time down to seven days sounds like hell, especially because you know your mind will now be filled with memories of her swaying hips, her warm lips on your shoulder, her playful joking about your attraction. You may not have touched her, but good lord did you want to. It was all too much, at least until Valentine's arm moved once again, this time to your shoulder, bracing against it.

"I guess this probably sounds much harder than I think it will be. I do suppose it is pretty hard to break a habit, especially just for a week..." Valentine looks away and brings her other hand to her chin, her eye squinting as if in thought. Suddenly, her eye opens wide and her pointer finger shoots in realization, "I've got it! A little bit of Pavlovian conditioning ought to do it!" She quickly turns around, rummaging through some drawers, before turning back around to you with a large glass jar filled with small, individually-wrapped lollipops. "I'm not a psychiatrist, but I do think this should work. What's your favorite flavor?" You look into the jar and pick out your favorite. Valentine swiftly, faster than you can follow, picks out each and every lollipop of your favorite flavor. Dozens of them are now in her hand. She places them down on a table next to her except for one, which she unwraps.

"Now, what we're going to do is have you become able to supplement masturbating with sucking on a lollipop. We're going to do this by associating what you find attractive with this new action. Now, take this, and when you get the urge to masturbate, put it in your mouth." Valentine motions her hand forward to hand you the candy, but as you take it from her, her other hand snatches your other wrist and pulls it close to her. Your face is pulled directly into the soft mounds of her chest without warning, and suddenly the hand which handed you the lollipop is felt against the back of your head, pushing you further into her seemingly endless bust. You struggle to get free, for in spite of the wonders you're feeling you realize that you are unable to breathe, but Valentine's strength proves to be greater than your own, her grip unbreakable, yet soft. After several seconds of this panicked bliss, the doctor lets you loose, and after gasping for air, you've noticed that you've practically soaked the front of your underpants with precum. In any other circumstance, you would ask to be excused and jack off into oblivion, but for Valentine, you abstain. Shaking somewhat, you bring your hand up to your mouth and place the lollipop inside. The taste is wonderful, better than any candy you've ever eaten in your life. Every fiber of your being slowly lets part of its tension subside as it is diverted from carnal sexual desire to even simpler pleasures. Your attraction doesn't go away, and neither does your erection, but you feel like you don't need to take care of them right now.

As you're gathering your things together, putting your shoes back on and such, sealing your plastic bag of lollipops given to you free of charge, Valentine walks up to you innocently, reminding you, "Now, whenever you get dirty thoughts about me, what are you going to do?" She bends forward a little while doing this, both making it feel like a light reprimand and also making sure that her cleavage is aimed directly at you. Instead of answering with words, you remove a lollipop from the bag, unwrap it, and place it in your mouth. Valentine stands up straight and proceeds to lightly pat you on the head in response to this. "Good boy. Run along now, and remember, no ejaculating AT ALL. Not ONE drop, okay? I can't have my study tainted." You reply with a simple and affirming mm-hmm, taking in the flavor of the lollipop for all it's worth as you close the door.

Your commute home this time features you wondering exactly what the hell had just happened in there. You played right into Valentine's hands, agreeing to not cum for a a full week, letting her move you around so effortlessly. Pressing you tightly against her bosom without so much as a warning...You place another lollipop in your mouth. You count that there are only about 40 left in the bag. It's going to be a LONG week.


	2. Saccharine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Valentine /gfd/ Part 2  
> Author: anonymous  
> Date Published: Thursday 9th of July 2015 06:25:31 PM CDT  
> Date Scraped: Thursday 1st of October 2020 02:34:00 AM CDT  
> Number of Visits: 6492  
> Expiration: Never  
> URL: https://pastebin.com/hMDENVVs (404)

And so it was. Nothing you did could take your mind off of Valentine for long, and every time you thought of Valentine you would get absolutely rock-hard. Of those 40 lollipops, 15 were gone after 24 hours, and 16 more the next day. You end up having to use one before and after every major part of your day. Once or twice you have to get out of the shower soaking wet to grab one. In a vain attempt to stretch what you have left across the rest of the week, you attempt to sleep through the entirety of the third day, but even then you end up using 6 more lollipops in between naps. On the fourth day, you awaken the least tired you've been in years. You also have the stiffest morning wood of your life. Popping your third-to-last candy into your mouth, you use this opportunity to check someone you never really had much chance to before. You take a moment to rummage through your messy desk drawers and pull out a plastic ruler before holding it next to your erection. You've always wanted to know the exact length, and you've finally got a boner with the longevity required to check. 6.5 inches, 14 centimeters. Momentarily impressed with your slightly above-average dick, you glance over at your plastic bag from Valentine's and see only two lollipops remaining.

You realize that you're going to have to go out and buy more lollipops to keep your slightly above-average dick at bay. It is your only option. Giving in to your own desires, cumming to your heart's content, depriving Valentine of something she wants or worse, lying to her, none of that even once crosses your mind. You aren't afraid of Valentine, you just can't bear the thought of hurting her. She's counting on you to not cum for 4 more days, and you're going to do it for her. You take a quick trip to the supermarket in your loosest sweatpants in order to buy your candy. You grab a few odds and ends you've been meaning to get this week as well, mostly in order to prevent yourself from looking like a humongous creep. You buy two big bags of lollipops, same brand and flavor as the ones Valentine gave you, with 40 each. Just in the nick of time, as well, you think to yourself as you unwrap the last of the original bag on the way out of the store. You feel much better knowing that you'll be able to sate yourself until the end of the week.

Unfortunately, this proves harder than expected. Once you arrive home, your thoughts are once again crossed by Valentine's image, her touch, her kiss, her voice, everything, and you rip open one of the bags you just bought to calm yourself. However, unlike the kind that Valentine gave you, this lollipop doesn't overwhelm your senses as immediately or powerfully enough to ward you off from masturbating. Hastily, you reach into the bag and grab two more lollipops, unwrapping them and placing them in your mouth. The combined flavor of the store-bought lollipops is finally enough to ease yourself, but in the back of your mind you panic, as suddenly what seemed like twice as many life-savers (in a figurative sense, not in terms of the candy itself) as before is now even less. For whatever reason, the lollipops Valentine gave you were much better than the ones you bought in just about every aspect. Maybe medical offices get the best picks off the line. Or perhaps anything Valentine touches is just that much sweeter.

The next four days are a blur. You feel as though you daydream about your check-up more than you see what's in front of you. Every waking moment of the day, you have a lollipop in your mouth, as if you were some sort of fucking cartoon character. Granted, doing this does help you ration your dwindling stash much better than using 3 or 4 at a time. As you go to bed the night before your appointment, you note that you have a dozen remaining. You wonder as you doze off if Valentine will take you in early.

\---------

You don't think you've ever been in this much of a hurry in your life. You approach the entrance to the alleyways that lead to Valentine's office as you place the last lollipop you have in your mouth. You feel like you're going to burst if you finish it before you get there, so you damn-near sprint down the dark corridors behind the buildings of New Meridian, a timer counting down in your head, as this week has been a lesson in just how long it takes for a lollipop to dissolve in your mouth. You breath a sigh of relief when the sign of the establishment enters your sight, with only a minute to spare, perhaps less. You run up to the door, knock on the door once, but emphatically and probably louder than you should've, and wait. You realize that in your hurry you're actually 15 minutes early for the time you and Valentine agreed on as you were leaving a week earlier.

Seconds pass, but they feel like minutes. A minute passes, but it feels like an hour. Chewing the tightly-wrapped paper tube that once held your candy to bits, you feel as though your loins are hanging on by a thread (as are your underwear), and decide to risk knocking once more. Shaking, your hand elevates towards the door, and as your wrist flicks forward to strike the door, it swings open, barely dodging out of the path of your knuckles. In the blur of motion, a hand zooms towards you, removes the chewed stick from your mouth, and jsut as quickly places a new lollipop in your mouth. It's absolutely delicious, even better than the ones you left with last week. As your vision clears up after a moment, you see that the owner of the hand was Valentine, this time holding another jar of lollipops instead of a clipboard. They're all of your favorite flavor. Her gaze feels warmer than before, and somehow closer.

"Good afternoon. Sorry about the delay, I was on the phone with my supplier. I've got some more packages on the way, and you wouldn't believe the shipping they charge for such small vials. I've also recently bought some candy, as you can see. Come on in then, sit down on the examination table and we'll see how you're holding up in a moment."

You steadily make your way towards the table and hop up on it, making sure not to look at any part of Valentine below the neck as she hustles and bustles with paperwork and such. Better safe than sorry. The pads of your feet gently touch the floor as you lightly let your legs swing back and forth, so as to distract yourself. After another few minutes or so, Valentine turns to you, the large jar of lollipops obscuring your view of her figure. Very smart, if disappointing. Without a word, she opens the jar, puts the lid aside, and offers half a dozen to you. You thank her very politely and take them, popping one into your mouth as the previous is finished. You can feel Valentine's smile radiate past her mask as she closes her visible eye and places the jar next to you, likely for ease of use.

"Alright then, let's get started. I assume you HAVE followed my instructions, yes?" You certainly did. "Good. Very good. I could see that erection from a mile away, but with the way you must think about me you could've let one out between when you knocked and when I opened the door and still been this hard. Then again, you're not the deceitful type. I can tell. Now, you and I both know that you're going to need to take your pants and underwear off for me to get my data. While you do that, I'm going to go get some measuring equipment."

You knew this moment would come, and so you mentally prepared yourself not to freeze up upon the request to disrobe below the belt for Valentine. In a few moments, you are able to shuffle around and remove your loose sweatpants and boxers, chosen specifically for the room they give your package, even if they still couldn't quite hide your erection. Your throbbing cock sits there, between your legs, atop your balls, which you haven't given much attention to this week, but can't quite ignore what with how they're positioned given the way you're sitting on the soft, surprisingly not-chilly table. The whole situation has a surreal air about it, as it should considering you're not wearing pants, but you simultaneously feel very safe.

As Valentine shuffles around in a cabinet to your left, she asks you some simple questions about your week: How many lollipops you went through, what times of day your urges were most often or strongest, how often were your urges met with precum, etc. etc. You answer truthfully, for the sake of accuracy in the study, and because you didn't feel comfortable lying to Valentine. She seemed attentive to what you were saying despite having her focus elsewhere, giving you little 'mhmm's and occasionally giggles after your answers (the latter especially for when you told her about how you had to buy two bags of extra lollipops).

Valentine returns to you brandishing a complex, shiny metal device that appears to have been designed with male genitalia in mind. Medical science leaves no stone un-turned when it comes to gathering data, you think to yourself jovially. Valentine's gaze moves to your groin, which causes her eye to visibly widen and her eyebrows to rise high up on her forehead. You can't really interpret this reaction, so you keep quiet and let the doctor calibrate the device as it hovers steadily parallel to your member in her grasp, without making contact. You suppose she realizes that any strong touches could lead to her data being splattered all over the floor of her clinic. Valentine then moves the device up to her face to read the number, and you hear what you think is a light, low whistle from behind her mask.

"Hmmm, looks like we've got a big boy here," the phrase 'big boy' simultaneously makes you blush and your dick stand up a bit more, "7 and 1/4 inches long with quite the circumference, and your scrotum looks very swollen from no release as well. I should be able to get a very substantial sample." Valentine's momentarily lapse of professionalism confused you for a moment, but she did say that she hadn't done much research of male genitalia up close, so you supp-wait. What? 7 and 1/4 inches? You could've sworn it was only 6 and a half, but then again you'd trust professional medical equipment more than your slightly-warped plastic ruler at home. Still, that's over half an inch of difference. Are you really THAT hard right now?

The next thing Valentine takes out is a flexible piece of tubing, with one end shaped with the head of a penis in mind. You chuckle under your breath at just how absurd it is for such a piece of equipment to exist, but then realize this is the exact situation it would be useful for. Valentine looks you in the eye and warns, "You may want to pop in another lollipop or two there, sweetie. I'm gonna need to attach this to you. It won't hurt, but it'll be a bit snug." You nod and happily comply by unwrapping and placing two more lollipops in your mouth. You barely notice the nozzle being applied to you due to how good they taste. Your gaze meets the clock on the wall above your head. 5: 36 PM.

Next out is a large hard plastic container with an opening built specifically for the opposite end of the tubing. You stare at it incredulously, as it looks to be about the size of a Half-Gallon of milk you would buy at the gas station, and had measurement lines that seemed to prove that assumption correct. Surely she doesn't expect you to cum THAT much, right? Then again, you've felt like you've needed to cum buckets since Day 2 of your No-Fap week, so overestimating will likely be much less messy than underestimating in this instance.

"Now, given how much semen I know you've saved up for me, I'm going to need to ensure that I get every last drop that you've got. That means I'm going to start stimulating," oh fuck, you never realized she would need to 'stimulate' you, "while you've still got those candies in your mouth there, to rile you up a bit, and then that'll assure the greatest strength of ejaculation and thus the greatest volume possible for my specimen. So, in order to get you going, let's give this a shot." 

Valentine takes the open end of the tubing with one hand, and her medical blouse with the other, and slips the tubing into it, underneath her breasts. Huh. She then takes one hand and holds it above her cleavage as she pushes the tubing upwards with the other, grasping the end as it pops up between her massive mammaries, the first time you've allowed yourself to look at them since you arrived today. She then takes the tube's end and snapped it in place on top of the plastic container, with quite a bit of slack still left in it. Alright then. Valentine reaches back to her shirt and fastens a button in the middle of her cleavage, clenching her breasts together. That's nice. Valentine then begins to slowly approach you, with the length of the tubing between the head of your dick and her breasts shorteni-

Holy shit.

Before you can even verbalize any of the feelings your realization hits you with, your mind is flooded with the sensations that slowly envelop the length of your shaft as your dick reaches the underside of Valentine's deep cleavage. Even if you could come up with words to describe your situation at the moment, your mouth is firmly shut as you try with all your might to focus on the taste of the lollipops in your mouth. Slowly, the layers of deliciousness melt away in your mouth, just as the willpower in your nether regions is being stripped by the impossibly soft flesh which has now covered the entire 7 and whatever percents inches of your dick, with only your abdomen and the tubing being visible on either end of the heavenly tunnel. You instinctively reach for new lollipops, but Valentine has pushed the jar just out of your reach. She takes the bare sticks out of your mouth, abruptly removing the one thing that kept you sane this whole week.

"Okay, now we're in position. Ready for the extraction, big boy?" You let out a light hnnnnnng. "Great. Let's begin the procedure."

Sheathing your dick between her tits was merely the beginning, as now you were receiving a full-on titjob. Each motion made by Valentine's hands creates shockwaves which ripple through her ample breasts, crashing on your positively screaming cock and making their way into your body and up your spine. Your body, as if reciprocating, responds with the constant throbbing of your shaft, as well as constant churning in your balls, aching for release. You cannot help but let out soft moans as dozens upon dozens of instances of repressed urges boil to the surface, and all Valentine can do is go faster and laugh, "Ooooh, you're so damn cute when you're like this, but come on now, no holding back, I need as much cum from you as possible. That's it, do my breasts make you feel good? Are you ready to let it ALL out for me?" You are. All you want to do is please this woman, make her happy, and in turn let her make you happy. This is, of course, for the betterment of health and wellness. You slowly allow the level of control you've been holding in your groin seep into your arms and hold them out, grasping Valentine's shoulders for support. 

You look directly into Valentine's face. You close your eyes. 

You let go.

Never before have you experienced such an all-encompassing, nearly-oxymoronic feeling of violent bliss as the orgasm you now feel. You cum and cum and cum some more for what feels like forever, and what's more, you never want it to stop. Not only do you feel untold pleasure in your loins, but your heart feels warm, full, and safe, almost as if you were floating in the core of a star. After the first second or so of your release, your senses begin to fade back in, however, and you hear Valentine's encouragement as she continues to squeeze each drop of semen out of you with her soft, pillowy chest, "That's right, sweetie. Good boy. Give me every last bit of it, very good." Hearing this only makes you want to please her even more, and you feel a second wind hit your body as you keep on cumming, emptying yourself of all your affection for this strange, beautiful woman, both physically and emotionally. Your scrambled mind forms a fleeting thought, 'is this love?' You don't know, but whatever it is, you certainly love the feeli-

Pitch black. You've fainted. Valentine's face is the first thing you see when you open your eyes. What a wonderful sight to wake up to.

"Oh my, I'm very sorry about that. I didn't mean to exhaust you, I just wanted to make sure I got everything I needed. I hope you feel alright." You feel better than alright, you say. This brings a smile to her face as she stands back up, which makes you feel even better. "You were a very good boy giving me all of your cum to examine. This should be more than enough." As you sit up, you realize that the container that had been placed next to you (now no longer connected to your dick, which is currently flaccid for the first time in seven days) is about three quarters of the way full with a white liquid. Damn, you really did need to cum buckets. Your gaze slides over to the clock you noticed earlier. 5:40. Wait, how long have you been out? Did you really cum so hard that you were unconscious for twel-oh wait that's PM. All of that only took about 4 minutes. Huh, weird.

Once you regain the strength in your legs, you get down from the examination table and grab your pants, quickly putting them back on. As you do so, Valentine takes the tank of your ejaculate to a back room, "Sorry if I feel like I'm rushing you, but I need some time to examine this, and it's going to need some solitude. First, though, I'm going to write you a prescription that I'm going to need you to follow to the letter to be in the right condition for your next checkup in about 2 weeks, when all my tests will be done and your third injected dosage will be administered. Before you get to worrying, it's not going to be like the past week." You let out a sigh of relief. As great as your last 5 minutes were, it wouldn't be worth another week of torture to feel again. Or maybe it would. You'd rather not find out, either way.

With a professional posture, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, Valentine enters the main room of the clinic once more, with a white paper bag, presumably containing the aforementioned prescription. On her way to you, she makes a quick detour to grab the large jar of lollipops. Handing them both off to you, she reminds you, "Like I said, follow that prescription EXACTLY, okay? The lollipops aren't part of it, they're just your treat for being such a good boy." She pats you on the head, and you turn around to leave as you say your goodbyes so that she doesn't see the wide, hammy smile on your face, nor how red your blush is. You wish each other well for the next two weeks.

As you close the door, you overhear her say, "I know you'll be enjoying yourself."

\---------

Your trip home is silent, forgettable, and mostly dedicated to letting your mind sort out exactly what had happened tonight. You couldn't have imagined your doctor would do things like this, let alone make you feel the way you do about Valentine. The emotions you feel around her are so very raw and passionate, unlike anything you've ever felt before. Maybe you ARE in love with her, and that would likely be problematic. Still, that's hardly all your fault, considering she just jacked you off with her huge tits. That's hardly a part of the hippocratic oath. Or is it? You've never read it. Still, you doubt it.

Once you arrive back home, you place the large glass jar of candy on your kitchen counter, put your keys and wallet where they should, etc. etc. Finally, you sit down at your desk with the white bag you had been given. You didn't open it on the ride home for fear of losing something or missing something in the instructions. Carefully, you open the bag and pull out the first thing your hand touches, a small strip of paper with only a couple of sentences scribbled on it in pencil:

MASTURBATE THREE TIMES A DAY USING THE PROVIDED MATERIALS. YOU MUST WAIT AT LEAST THREE HOURS BETWEEN EACH EJACULATION. YOU CAN HAVE A LOLLIPOP AFTER YOU CUM IF YOU WANT, SWEETIE ~<3

Provided materials? You reach further into the bag, only to find the only other item in it: a small envelope sealed with a clasp, which you undo in order to open the flap and shake out its contents.

All that's in the envelope are pictures. Roughly a dozen pictures or so. Pictures of Valentine, many of them very risque and sexy, but without much actually being shown. There are several of her cleavage from different angles, one of her ass bent over a counter with her medical blouse on, a couple of her in simple (yet effective) lingerie, and one in which she's totally nude, but she's covering herself up with her arms, her soft titflesh spilling out over the one she has held across them. She still wears her eyepatch and mask in all of the pictures. The last, and what is ostensibly your favorite, is one of her making a motion as if blowing a kiss to the viewer. This photo also has a visible kiss on it, made with a very soothing royal purple shade of lipstick. There seems to be more left in the envelope, however, so you reach your hand in and grab it. It's a pair of lacey black panties, the same as those you saw in the photos. Pinned to them is another slip of paper, reading FRESHLY WORN.

It seems that whatever it is you feel about Valentine, she seems to feel similarly about you. A sudden sensation from below the desk lets you know that your reprieve from being erect has come to end, and all you can do is smile. You turn down the lights and bring the envelope, as well as one lollipop, to bed with you.


	3. Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Valentine /gfd/ (Ch. 3)  
> Author: anonymous  
> Date Published: Thursday 15th of September 2016 10:53:52 PM CDT  
> Date Scraped: Thursday 1st of October 2020 02:34:00 AM CDT  
> Number of Visits: 4629  
> Expiration: Never  
> URL: https://pastebin.com/HYzhwYmu (404)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the actual paste in pastebin is "Valentine /gfd/ (Ch. 1-2 re-upload + Ch. 3)" and the text below is just the 3rd chapter

Bliss. Three times a day, three hours apart, followed consistently by a singular, delicious lollipop to help tide you over until the next. Structured bliss is bliss nonetheless, and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

The first few days since leaving Valentine's office with your prescription are wonderful, especially compared to the week beforehand. You used to only masturbate maybe twice a day before you met Valentine, but now the only thing stopping you from going over three was Valentine's word, the only thing of her's stronger than the overwhelming feminine scent of her used panties, which you had the bright idea of keeping in a freshly-cleaned plastic container. Locking in the freshness, you chuckled to yourself as you formulated the idea.

Despite all the seed you were spilling (and there was a LOT of seed spilled), you make sure to never get any on the panties or pictures Valentine gave you. Not only would it be a bitch to clean, but you felt it would be disrespectful. Having an increase in restraint rivalling your increase in sex drive was a surreal experience, but it made those moments of bliss all the more special. Valentine had a perfect body, a perfect scent, a perfect face (what you could see of it), a perfect demeanor, etc. A perfect woman, and she was interested in you...as a test subject. You can't get too ahead of yourself, but she DID flirt with you. At the very least, you're much closer than most people are to their doctors. You trust her more than just about anybody you know, and you've only just met her. She just has that kind of aura about her that makes you feel certain that whatever she plans to use this data for will be worthwhile. You feel very secure about your life each time you finish a lollipop, discard the stick, and head to bed each night. Wake up, eat breakfast, masturbate for Valentine, take a lollipop, brush your teeth, continue the job hunt, jack off for Valentine, take a lollipop, eat lunch, watch some TV, eat Dinner, cum for Valentine, take a lollipop, go to bed, repeat.

However, it's not long before your body begins to test you. Five days into your new prescriptions, you start feeling like thrice a day just isn't enough. Your first sight upon waking up is your morning wood pitching a tent in both your pajamas AND your blankets something fierce. You decide to relieve yourself before breakfast today, no big deal. You crack open the container, open the envelope, and go to town. You have a lollipop with your breakfast. However, before you can get into the Help Wanted section of the paper, you notice that your pants are tighter than usual around this time of day. You still have an hour until you can fap again, so you try your best to ignore it.

As you read the various job ads, your growing need fills more and more of your mind. Words on the page begin to morph and change in your mind, getting lewder as you go. You seriously doubt the local sandwich shop is hiring a "fuccboi" for $10.50/hour. The massage parlor three blocks down probably doesn't need someone to "please the masseuses" part-time. Your mind keeps slipping in and out of sex, in and out, in and out. It's blowing your mind...blowing it reeeaalll good. You slam the paper down to the table, sweating profusely, and dart your eyes towards your clock. It's been 12 minutes. 48 to go. 47 and change.

Suddenly, a realization. You still have your lollipops. You've been using them as a treat for after fapping, but they've worked just as well to hold you off in the past. You rush to your jar and pop one in as soon as physically possible. You pocket another just in case. You immediately feel much less pressured, as your mind empties of lewd thoughts. You take a deep breath. Maybe your body was just getting used to cumming so much and got overzealous, you think to yourself.

46 minutes later, you cum your brains out while fantasizing about Valentine's wide hips and full thighs, wondering how it would feel on your dick compared to the titjob you received, the titjob that felt like it had been so long ago. You practically flood the sock finish into, and you still need several tissues to clean up the spill and what's left on your dick. You note that it's taking longer to clean your dick, and not just because of the amount of cum. It's taking longer to wipe the whole thing down. The things you notice when you masturbate thrice daily.

Things are going alright after that's taken care of, and you settle down to watch some TV. You flip past some boring new stations, some sports channels covering stuff you don't care for, a nature documentary or two. You settle on an old sitcom, one that makes you laugh a few times, even though you remembered half the jokes beforehand. However, you take a good look at the "Logical, loving wife and mother who puts up with her family's antics" character and notice that the actress was actually quite attractive at the time. You never noticed when you were younger. Her sweaters and sweatpants hardly hide the fact that her body was banging, in fact they're almost straining in certain scenes...

Oh shit, it's happening again. When can you fap next? You check your clock again. 90 minutes. You're only halfway to your next allowed fap. How can this be? Your sex drive can't have gone this crazy in just one day, right? You need to pull yourself together and wait it out. Following Valentine's instructions is paramount, above all other things. You have to hold on somehow. You place two lollipops into your mouth. They last you 53 minutes; you were staring at the clock more than the TV. You unwrap another to replace them. You keep every muscle in your mouth still so as to dissolve the candy as slowly as possible, allow it to last as long as it can. 3 minutes until you can fap, but the remaining candy just isn't enough. With each passing second, you can feel your heart pounding slowly, powerfully, and you can feel more and more blood rushing to a particular location. 1:43 until you can let go, but only then. You take your pants off. 1:28 left. Your shirt is next. 1:15 left. Your underwear; you marvel at yourself as if you've never seen your own dick before, and it seems like you've never seen it quite like this before. Under a minute. You rush to the drawer where you keep your prescription. You take out the plastic container, the envelope, a box of tissues, and a sock. 36 seconds. You won't need lube, your precum is already dribbling down and slicking your shaft just fine. 12 seconds. You take a deep breath and crack open your container with Valentine's panties inside. It's time.

37 seconds later, you've made a real mess of your desk's underside, ruined another sock, used up half of your tissues, and experienced the most intense orgasm you've had since your last checkup. There was no fooling around here, just grab, jerk, and let out everything you've got, just like Valentine asked. Perhaps you let out a bit too much, as you're now quite tired, and absolutely tuckered out by the time you finish cleaning up. You head to bed, hoping the past 24 hours have been an anomaly. They weren't.

Your next day ends up being pretty similar to the last, unable to focus on anything but waiting until your next allowed fap, horribly rationing your time, and creating bigger and bigger messes each time you finish. The next day starts the same, and is trending to be the same throughout, until your phone alerts you of a text message. You don't text very many people, so you check and see what it says, as it is probably important.

It reads, "This is Valentine. I hope you've been following your prescription to the letter. I'd recommend you invest in some condoms. Big ones ;)" You wonder how Valentine got your number, but you figure that you must've put it on a form and forgotten about it. A direct message like that makes it just a little bit easier to keep up her instructions. Her advice was very sound as well; a condom would be much better at containing your cum than a sock and some tissues. You decide to make a trip to the store as soon as your second fap of the day to Valentine's pictures and scent comes and goes.

After another messy minute or two of bliss, you clean up and take a short trip to the pharmacy, where you know they sell all sorts of condoms. You've never been down that aisle before, nor have you ever bought any condoms, so you seem a bit lost. There's a young lady wearing an employee shirt an aisle over, but you figure you'd rather not bother her with your dick problems (nor do you want to pop a boner in front of her). Instead, you peruse the selection of rubbers, comparing and contrasting brands based on color, shape and quantity of ribs, what kind of skin was used to make them, the lubricants built into them, etc. All the while you're just not sure what size you need. Thankfully, fate has given you a break; the girl's shift seems to be over and a guy around your age takes her place. You flag him down and ask him about the ins and outs of condom shopping. After learning that you're using them just to save on cleanup time, he recommends a simpler line, one that's thankfully pretty inexpensive. When he asks, as politely as possible, how big you are in order to gauge the size you need. Not having been measured in some days, but noticing some increase in size, you round up and say 8 inches. He recommends Large-size, and within minutes you're on your way back home to try one on, as you can feel your need slowly creeping up on you.

When you arrive home you immediately tear open the box and carefully undo a single condom. Carefully you unfurl it along the length of your member, which is at more than half-mast at this point. Despite a bit of fumbling, you do manage to put it on successfully once you read the instructions on the box and took about 8 minutes. Sucking away at your lollipop and preparing your materials for the last few minutes until you can begin, you realize that you have no idea how much capacity for cum each one of these condoms has. Too late now. Another short, furious burst of fapping begins, but you notice very early that you may have made a mistake. The condom you took so long to put on is getting tighter as your dick stiffens. By the time you're ready to climax, you realize there's just not enough room for anything else in there, let alone however much cum is about to shoot out. You brace yourself and grab your tissue box; a second later, the condom breaks as your mind is once again cleared out and for a brief moment, only Valentine enters your thoughts. Once back in reality, you realize that you have yet another clean-up job to do, and also that you've wasted some money.

Your return to the store is an awkward one. You approach the same employee and explain the situation, much to his shock. Soon, however, he shows you what you need: a more specialty brand with a much greater reservoir, this time in XL size. The female cashier blushes when she sees the box of condoms as well as multiple boxes of tissues unloaded from your basket. She's cute, but you'd rather focus on Valentine. Thankfully, this time you do manage to keep the condom intact when you jack off later that evening. It feels just as wonderful as always, since your thoughts are filled with Valentine, but it almost seems like a chore at this point. You suppose following the rules so strictly, while important, may be taking away some of the inner oomph to match the outer explosion. You place the condoms next to you before going to sleep, alongside your jar of lollipops. You can only assume how much you'll need to fap for Valentine in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4-7, Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: 'Offical' ending to Valentine/gfd/  
> Author: anonymous  
> Date Published: Tuesday 28th of August 2018 02:56:55 AM CDT  
> Date Scraped: Thursday 1st of October 2020 02:34:00 AM CDT  
> Number of Visits: 711  
> Expiration: Never  
> URL: https://pastebin.com/yv0XpsCm (404)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author of this work wasn't able to fully finish it, but was able to summarize what would have happened (in greentext format). Here's the note from the original pastebin post:
> 
> \---Note: Here you will find the 'official' ending for Valentine/gfd/(https://pastebin.com/HYzhwYmu) that was posted by the original author to the /aco/ Skullgirls Thread. It's only a quick summary of what would happen, but it should be some closure for those wanting an end to the original. From the author's post:

>Chapter 4: "House Call Part 1"  
>It was going to be a short chapter to ease me into writing the story again (very funny in hindsight) and would've involved Valentine calling the MC and essentially giving him Jerk-Off Instructions over the phone

>Chapter 5: "House Call Part 2"  
>Not too dissimilar from where you started, with Valentine showing up at his home with very little time between notifying and arriving  
>Would mostly do some posing and dirty talk, maybe a gloved handy before taking a full condom and leaving fresh lingerie; there'd be a moment where she recreates the position from Chapter 2 and the head is visible above the cleavage when it was previously engulfed

>Chapter 6  
>You actually return to the clinic, your feet able to sit firmly on the floor when you sit on the examination table  
>You get a full physical; your dick is over 9 inches and girthier than before, your balls are heavier and larger, you're a full inch+ taller (but you still feel just as short compared to her), and your brain is fixated on sex  
>Your newer semen sample was was 70% the volume of the Chapter 2 load despite having been one of many loads in a short timeframe, and the sperm count was nearly double  
>Valentine admits that her shipments were of the serum she's been using on you, and that her clinic's candy is laced with it (hence the store-bought's lessened effects); holding back cumming and then doing it regularly helped it activate  
>The condition it's meant to treat: Male Virginity  
>She notes that you mention romantic fixations before giving you your final shot and saying she'll tell you when to come back, slipping you another envelope of lewd pictures, lingerie, and lollipops  
>week of INTENSE masturbation, including more phone JOI  
>you visibly notice the effects yourself this time, without even using rulers or other measurements; they're enough to eyeball the change

>Chapter 7  
>you get a call from Val saying that she wants you to not cum for 1 day and then come in  
>It's harder to do than your week without cumming, but you do it for her  
>Arrive at the clinic, prepared to get milked into a machine again  
>Valentine is visibly off; she can't figure out the affectionate side effect, so she developed a female equivalent of the serum  
>She made it fast-acting and extremely potent, and you watch as she injects herself in the neck with it  
>Just as you've become a more ideal sexual being over the past several weeks, you watch as Valentine somehow becomes even more perfect than before; taller, bustier, wider hips, the works  
>She pins you down, undoes each of her strained buttons (despite all that's happened this is the first you see of her nipples), and starts doing everything in her power to get up against your throbbing dick  
>All the while she reminds you that she hasn't given you permission to cum yet, as she needs to "examine the effects", but you can tell she just wants to watch you squirm, especially as she inserts you into yourself  
>Your balls go into overdrive, producing more and more as the rest of you holds back  
>"I've figured it out. The side effect isn't that it makes your mind more likely to feel affection, it's that your more focused mind...allows your affections to stay more clearly in your consciousness"  
>"In other words, you already loved me. And I...I think I already loved you before I injected myself."  
>You both twinge in unison at the shared realization  
>"Take my mask off. Kiss me. When my hand gives the signal, cum. Give me EVERYTHING."  
>Her hand very gently grasps one of your balls as you pull down her mask; you find the scars endearing  
>From that moment, nothing but passion; her tongue tastes of candy, your favorite flavor  
>You feel a squeeze, and let go  
>Imagine the release from Chapter 2 but longer and more powerful, exponentially so, and with way better description, as well as a romantic, passionate flair to it

>Epilogue  
>Years later, you and Valentine are living together  
>The effects of the serum stabilized over time, meaning that your sex drives are healthy, but not all-encompassing; physically you're both essentially built for sex at this point  
>Her discoveries have allowed her to give up shady alley clinics and assassinations and all the other stuff she filled you in on after Ch. 7; you're sexual vitality supplement moguls now  
>Val is the brains of the operation, but you do more travelling, on account of the kids and/or pregnancies  
>Whenever you leave for business without her, she hands you a "prescription" of photos, lingerie, and lollipops  
Hokey as hell, sure, but I wanted to have a true good-end of this sort. I'm just glad after all this time I finally fucking typed this all out so I won't feel guilty about it, even if it's an abridged version.


End file.
